


Abundance

by semele



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wells sometimes tries to imagine what abundance could've looked like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abundance

**Author's Note:**

> Based on reyesitup's headcanon shared on tumblr.

On the Ark, it's easy to get into the habit of looking.

Wells sometimes tries to imagine what abundance could've looked like – abundance that comes with making new things every day and every week. When he reads books (the books they keep under lock and key, so that they don't get too much oxygen), he's amazed by the excess of waste: scraps of paper or old clothes thrown away without a moment's thought, and food left somewhere carelessly and allowed to go bad. “We're more practical now,” his dad often says, and Wells has no choice but to agree.

(“We're the nation of scavengers,” Wells heard Clarke's dad say that one time.)

So Wells always has a list at the back of his mind, a list made of people that matter. Right on top there are green pens his dad is partial to, and scraps of yellow fabric his mom used to sew together to make a patchwork tablecloth, but more and more things appear as he grows older.

He's thirteen when he finally manages to trade a tin mug for two inches of purple crayon.

Clarke sketches his portrait on that very day, purple lips and purple forehead. The sketchbook is a gift from Clarke's mom, but Wells is still proud that he helped to _make_ something, something that wasn't found, repaired, or redone. 

They take away that picture when they search his pockets after he's arrested, and Wells almost hits the guard, adding insult to injury. It's just a picture, he tells himself firmly. No reason to cry about it. On Earth, there will be no need to trade, to scavenge and search. There will be an abundance of crayons.

For some reason, this doesn't cheer him up.


End file.
